Caminando
by ParijanTaiyou
Summary: He couldn't believe he was holding her again, feeling her breathing against his chest. Before he knew it, his eyes were full of tears and his chest was trembling and he could feel the wetness of her tears on his shirt. "Take me home, Sergio," she said without moving. Raquel x Sergio, Post-season 3.
1. Spain: Part One

Hi guys!

So this fic almost never saw the light of day... I wrote it in August and have been editing it for three weeks without being ever satisfied about it (I swear it was worse than picking a scab). You owe its publication to Evendale over on AO3, who somehow convinced me that it wasn't total crap. (Thank you again!)  
This is my take on what could happen after season 3, after the heist. I don't know if it's very realistic, but it has the benefit of ending well... :P It will have five chapters, and possibly an epilogue. Warning for referenced/implied torture.

I hope you'll like it! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think :)

* * *

**Chapter One****: Spain, Part One**

* * *

The heist, his brother's plan, had been successful in the end. Sergio wished Andrés were alive to see that.

All of Spain's gold melted into grains, now theirs.

Of course it had all gone south after Nairobi had been shot, and Raquel…

They had opened fire on the oncoming tanks. Men had died. From that moment the heist had no longer been a delicate yet ruthless negotiation with the police, no longer been about outsmarting them. It had been about survival, about killing before being killed.

So in less than thirty-six hours, they had managed to fight them off long enough to finish melting the gold, and join the Professor in a warehouse outside of Madrid. It had not been the discrete, incognito escape of the previous heist. More blood had been shed, destruction had ensued. The Bank of Spain, over a hundred years old, inaugurated by King Alfonso XII, was wrecked. Their allies in the crowd outside had started violent riots as a distraction. They had endangered the hostages, the public, shot at the police, but Sergio uncharacteristically had not cared because he could still hear the gunshots that had killed Raquel. They had killed a woman on her knees, begging for her life, for God's sake.

They were now at the final phase: fleeing Europe without getting caught.

For all of them but Sergio.

He still had things to do, driven by a bloodlust he hadn't ever thought he was capable of feeling. He knew that, theoretically, that sentiment existed; that unreasonable furor that blinded you, that heavy molten core of lava in your chest, but he had never thought he had it in him. He was too cold, too calculating for that. Emotions didn't get the best of him. He hadn't even felt this furious when his mother had died and his father and his brother had been killed.

But he'd lost everyone he'd ever loved. Those were exceptional circumstances. He'd also thought he couldn't be madly in love, in love beyond reason, until he met Raquel. So really, anything was possible.

The hardest part had been continuing without her. When Sergio had reached their third and last vehicle to join the others, two motorcycles, knowing she was supposed to be with him, and he had mounted his bike and left hers behind… it had taken a herculean effort to not let his pain overwhelm him and go on with the plan.

Most of all he was furious with himself for not planning a contingency plan to their contingency plan. He always thought of everything – he hadn't thought that maybe they wouldn't be able to climb up a tree and would need another hiding place, something less obvious and improvised than a fucking _barn_…

Raquel had gotten caught because of him.

She had deserved better than a plan coming apart at the seams. And yet…

So here he was, planning multiple homicides instead of leaving with the others, calculating the best way to to get to Suárez, Sierra, Alberto, Prieto, anyone who had ever hurt her: was it best to kill them one by one without raising attention and risk getting caught before he could reach the end of the list, or get them at the same place at the same time and kill them then, even if it meant endangering himself and others…

What was the point of returning to Palawan anyway, to their home, to Paula and Mariví who still didn't know, without her?

The team sympathised – but they didn't feel as strongly as him. Understandably so. The past two days had been hell and they wanted to go home and go on with their lives of millionaires. Besides, even if Lisboa had been part of the band, even if they had gotten to know her and bonded with her at the monastery… she hadn't been inside the Bank of Spain with them. In the monastery she hadn't attended classes with them; she had been standing behind the Professor. She hadn't mingled with them at night and instead had slept early with the Professor.

She was part of the band, but she was on the Professor's side.

Besides, there was always that slight awkwardness – they were robbers, and she was former police. The only one who had really taken to her was Mónica, as they were both somewhat outsiders.

He'd heard glimpses of an argument between Denver and Mónica – "We should do something! What if it had been me?" "My love, there's nothing more we can do, it won't bring her back, let's go home to Cinci while we can."

He didn't blame them. They had been extremely, maddeningly lucky to all get out alive. And they knew it. As saddened and disgusted as they felt about her death, they didn't see the point of seeking vengeance and dragging this on any further. Sergio knew that. He couldn't, and wouldn't endanger his teammates. He had put them in harm's way enough as it was. It was something he would have to do alone. Raquel had told him that he was a lone wolf anyway… during their last talk face to face, which had been nothing but deliberately hurtful lies.

He tried not to think about those last tense moments. In vain.

In the midst of their frantic preparations, packing up the gold, putting disguises on, and his wrath-induced planning, he was surprised to hear his phone ring. Marsella was right there beside him so it had to be Sierra calling directly but he couldn't figure out how, or even why – they had the gold. They had won. It was over. What the hell was there left to negotiate?

He picked up.

"Sergio?"

He felt his breath leave his body.

It couldn't be.

"Sergio?"

"Raquel?" Everyone around him paused and turned around. It was her voice, it was definitely her voice, but that wasn't possible... "Raquel, is that you?"

"Sergio, I'm sorry, they faked my execution, I'm so sorry."

His eyes blurred. "Where are you? Are you alright? Where are you?"

It was not Raquel who answered but Sierra. "Good afternoon Professor, I have a proposition that might interest you: give us the gold back, and you'll see your precious wife again."

"Why now?" He was trying to figure her out, why she was only using Raquel as a bargaining chip now. She could have prevented a lot of deaths and one big mess. The only reason he could think of… They had tried to get out of her any information at all about their escape plan, and hadn't been able to. His mind flashed back to all the techniques against torture and interrogations that he had taught his students, to her participating and him being upset about it, praying that it wouldn't come to that… He hadn't wanted to entertain the possibility that she could get caught, too. "What have you done to her?"

"I had the president on the phone. He is not happy about you stealing the gold. He's ready to consider letting you all go if you give it back, as he's quite desperate to prevent the collapse of the Euro and so are our neighbours. Also you need to tell me all about the techniques you guys use to withstand interrogation because that was im-pre-ssive!"

"Let me talk to her."

"Nuh-uh. The gold first. You have one hour to decide."

"I want proof that she's well."

Sierra heaved a long, dramatic sigh. "Alright, fine, but only because that one is giving me puppy eyes and I can't stand it."

"Sergio," Raquel spoke up.

"My love," Sergio gasped, his tears streaming down his face. His heart pounded in his chest just from hearing her voice, his name on her lips. "Are you alright?"

"I'm… well enough."

He heard her inhale sharply and swallow.

She hated, hated the choice he had to make: her, or the heist. She wished she could be brave, sacrifice herself like they did in the movies and tell him, _my love, continue with the plan, don't worry about me_.

But this wasn't a fucking movie. It was real life, and she wanted to go home, she wanted to see her mother and her daughter again.

And he wanted the same thing. There was no question about it. They both knew, and had known since the beginning, that the love they shared mattered more than any heist, was worth more than all of the gold of Spain. It had scared him at first – it went against his first rule, his more important rule – but not anymore.

But she couldn't bring herself to ask. He heard her mental struggle over the phone without her needing to say a thing and it broke his heart.

"Well, that was touching," Sierra cut in. "One hour."

He couldn't believe he'd been dumb enough to think she had been executed. His feelings for Raquel had clouded his judgement. Had it been anyone else he would have suspected they'd used his own trick against him, would have distrusted what he'd heard without proof. Killing her _had _upset him, unsettled him, thrown him off-balance. But that was short-term. She was his partner – she knew almost as much as him about the heist. Keeping her alive, getting her to talk, would be like being inside his head; they could predict his every move. Of course they'd chosen to kill two birds with one stone.

But it hadn't worked. Because they hadn't been arrested and the president wanted the gold back. The state was surrendering and they had won the war.

To hell with the gold. It had never been about the fucking gold anyway. They had wanted a disruption big enough to get Río back. Shake the system. Fuck the gold.

With everyone nodding in agreement, he answered, "No need, I've decided."

* * *

Two hours later, in the clearing of a forest in Castilla la Mancha, Raquel was walking toward him, slowly and with difficulty.

They hadn't bothered to pamper her up like they had Río. She was wearing the same hoodie and black trousers as when he'd last seen her, only less than forty-eight hours ago, and yet it felt much longer than the year he'd spent waiting for her at that bar in Palawan.

He looked at her as she crossed the distance between them, his arms held out to her long before she was even in his reach. She had bruises and abrasions on her face, a cut above her lip, one of her eyes was blackened and swollen, her long hair was disgusting and messy.

He was holding her in his arms before they'd even talked or kissed or looked at each other. She held him tightly, burying her face in his chest. He cradled her head and leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

He wanted to shelter her from the world, he wanted nothing to happen to her ever again. He couldn't believe he was holding her again, feeling her breathing against his chest. Before he knew it, his eyes were full of tears and his chest was trembling and he could feel the wetness of her tears on his shirt. He tried to say her name but only a strangled sob came out.

They were completely oblivious to the exchange occurring around them – bags of gold given off to the police by their teammates who'd donned red suits instead of the disguises they had been putting on in the warehouse, men and women standing with rifles on either side. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, but neither of them paid attention. He didn't see the look of disgust on Sierra's face, that of defeat on Tamayo's. He didn't care.

"Take me home, Sergio," she said without moving.


	2. Spain: Part Two

**Chapter Two: Spain, Part Two**

* * *

The deal was as it follows: having been given all the gold back, the police would let them leave the country within twelve hours, provided they never set foot in Spain again. Beyond that, they were still fugitives. If they were to be arrested by the local police wherever they chose to finish their lives, the state would request their extradition. The fact that the public opinion was still on their side, despite the bloodshed, had helped a lot in the making of that deal.

Which meant they had time to tend to Raquel and Nairobi's injuries and plan their escape more serenely.

Once back at the warehouse, Sergio took Raquel to the back of the building, where a medical area had been set up for Nairobi, who was now resting in a quieter corner of the warehouse. The bullet had been extracted successfully in the bank and the surrounding tissues repaired as well as they could manage. She had however necessitated another surgery in the warehouse, performed by a team of Serbian cardiothoracic surgeons that Sergio trusted. Helsinki was still watching over her.

The team would take turns watching the building with machine guns in case the police attacked. Sergio feared they wouldn't stay true to their word and he wanted to be ready for that eventuality.

"How about a short vacation before we get home?" he suggested. Raquel nodded, recognising the code word. Escaping together if she were carrying a microphone or a tracking chip would be suicide.

"Just the two of us," she requested.

"Of course."

She'd expected the team to be hostile towards her – after all they wouldn't have lost the gold if she hadn't been caught – but it wasn't the case. Everyone had greeted her warmly, happy that she was back. Mónica had immediately run to her and held her in her arms. She didn't think her former colleagues on the force would have been this happy to see her back.

Sergio helped Raquel sit on the cot. She unzipped her hoodie and tried to remove it, but her arms protested painfully and she let out a groan.

"Let me."

He gently pushed the fabric from her shoulders, trying to avoid touching her bruised skin, and quickly realised she wasn't wearing anything underneath – which wasn't the case the last time he'd seen her.

"Did they give you clothes?"

"Yes. Some regular prison jumpsuit."

As he began gently pulling her arms from the sleeves, he saw that her torso wasn't in a much better shape than her face. With tears in his eyes, he paused to look at her injuries. Her skin was covered in bruises and welts. Above her breast he could see the imprints of a shoe sole. But what worried him the most was the large purplish bruise spread across her left flank.

"I want to take an X-ray of that," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

She nodded. "Hurts when I breathe," she said, confirming his suspicion that she might have broken ribs.

"I'll get you painkillers. Were you drugged?"

"Most likely not. They didn't inject me anything and I wasn't given much to eat or drink. Though I lost consciousness a couple times but I don't know for how long."

"Did they let you sleep at all?"

"I don't think so."

In the span of those two days, she didn't remember falling asleep or waking up, but they both knew the police had ways to let their prisoners sleep for a few minutes without them realising – microsleep, hypnosis – to keep them exhausted but still prevent their brains from melting. Besides, they only needed a few minutes and a mild sedation to plant a chip under someone's skin.

Sergio pulled her right arm out of the sleeve and she hissed as her hand caught in the fabric. "_Joder._"

"My God," Sergio whispered as he took a closer look at her hand, which had been stripped of the silver rings she always wore – including the one he'd gifted her before she briefly went back to Spain, which pained them both. Her middle, ring and pinky fingers were purple and swollen. Definitely broken. "We're going to need to reset that, put a splinter." He was getting agitated now. "Fuck this, let's do it now, I need lidocaine…"

"Hey." She rested her good hand on his cheek and forced him to look into her eyes. "One thing at a time."

He noticed the grab marks on her arms and the cuts from the handcuffs around her wrists and his tears spilled over – seeing the woman he loved like that, battered and bruised, her bones broken... "I'm sorry, Raquel, so sorry…"

"What the hell are you sorry for, idiot? You didn't do this to me. You didn't force me into the heist. I knew what I was getting into."

"But this…"

"Yeah, it sucked. But I'm here now."

"I didn't even know."

She felt her eyes sting, remembering the despair she had felt when Suárez had shot the floor instead of her brains, knowing Sergio was hearing it, knowing how he must have felt thinking she was dead… "They tricked you, Sergio."

"Believe me, if I had known, I wouldn't have let you stay with them, not for a minute."

"I know," she said, remembering how he wanted to turn himself in, give up on the heist without a hesitation, just to save her. "Sergio, I know."

"I was going to kill them all."

Her cheeks were wet.

"I know."

She did know, because she would have done the same thing.

He leaned over to kiss her gently. When they parted, she rested her forehead against his for a minute. They listened to each other breathe, holding hands, revelling in each other's presence, as improbable and miraculous as it seemed at the moment, in the peace that finally being together again brought them, the promise that they would be home soon like before…

"Now get this over with so I can finally go to sleep." He chuckled and helped her stand so he could pull down her pants. Her legs and feet were also bruised, there were more welts and some cigarette burns on her thighs, but nothing was broken.

He looked at her in question when he rested his hand on her hip, on her underwear.

She shook her head. "I'm okay. They didn't touch me there."

Relieved, he let go of the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Good."

He helped her sit back down.

* * *

He had found a tracking chip in the back of her neck. She'd held his hand and his gaze as they had put her under so they could extract it. The chip had later been tossed on the first boat they had come across. Then, he'd used the portable X-ray on her ribs and hand, and splintered her broken fingers while she was still asleep.

He'd watched her sleep, excited to tell her when she would wake up that her hand didn't need surgery to reset the bones, and that her broken ribs hadn't punctured her lung, but most of all, now that he was assured she wasn't carrying a microphone, that Paula and Mariví were safe and waiting for them at home. She'd cried tears of joy.

Then, he'd given her a sponge bath and washed her hair at her request. It had demanded a herculean effort not to cry in front of her as he cleaned delicately, reverently, every inch of her battered body that he had thought he would never get to cherish and worship again. There wasn't a bathroom at the warehouse, so they had to make do with a bucket and soap, but it was more than enough to get the stink and dried blood off of her. This quiet, intimate moment had been just what they had needed. They'd held each other for the longest time afterwards.

Finally, they'd said their goodbyes to everyone, hopefully for the last time, stocked up on painkillers, and headed to their sailboat to cross the Mediterranean.

Being fugitives made travelling a bit more difficult (how he wished to just put her on a commercial flight so she could see her family in a matter of hours and not days), but they would get there.

Only two more weeks.

* * *

The silver ring I mention is in Everdale's fic, over on AO3, called _Tell Me What You Like_. Here's the link if you'd like to read it (and I encourage you to!) : archiveofourown dot org slash works slash 20389813

Please don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know what you think :)


	3. The Mediterranean

**Chapter Three: The Mediterranean**

* * *

Raquel always slept like the dead. Back at the monastery she'd even slept through Nairobi and Denver's argument about the patriarchy, when Sergio had had to get out of bed to scold them. When he'd gone back to bed, she had simply curled up against him again, seeking out his warmth in her sleep. It seemed the only thing that could wake her up at night was when he wasn't in bed next to her for more than ten minutes.

Now they were on the boat, just the two of them, and he was watching her sleep again. She slept a lot, which was normal considering she had been awake for two days, God knows in what conditions, and ate little and laboriously, as she was struggling to work up an appetite again. She ached all over in spite of the painkillers, again normal with the beatings she had taken, and stayed in bed as much as she could. Unless something needed to get done on the ship, he stayed in the cabin by her side.

She hadn't told him yet what had happened to her, in fact she hadn't talked much, and he wouldn't insist. He was putting pieces together judging by her injuries and he didn't like what his mind imagined.

It was still morning and the sun was shining bright. She'd slept fine until now: a deep, dreamless slumber that allowed her mind and body to rest and heal. But for the past minutes she'd been frowning and shifting, her body covered in a sheen of sweat, and he was debating whether he should wake her up. Then she was muttering and he couldn't make out what she was saying.

"Raquel," he tried to wake her up, gently touching her shoulder, but she beat him to it and lunged onto her elbows with a loud gasp. "Raquel, my love," he said softly as he cupped her face with his hands.

She was breathless like she'd just sprinted to the finish line, her eyes looking around frantically. "It's okay. I'm here." She caught his gaze but he still wasn't convinced she knew where she was. "I'm with you. We're on our way home. It's okay." She nodded, trembling all over, her chest heaving with her ragged breathing. He helped her sit up.

"I need some air," she rasped after a few seconds.

He helped her out of the cabin and onto the deck. She sat with her back against the railing, her legs folded against her chest, shaking, and he sat beside her.

She had had nightmares before, about Alberto. At first he had tried helping her get her breathing under control, think of happy things, but he'd quickly realised she unfortunately wasn't new to this. All he could do was hold her hand and assure her of his presence, however she chose to address things when she pulled herself out of her nightmare. When she wanted to talk, he listened. When she wanted to cuddle, he held her. Hell, when she wanted to go for a midnight swim, he followed her into the ocean

So he did just that – took her left hand in his. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, along the steady rocking of their boat, but he could tell it wouldn't be enough. It didn't ease the anxious look on her face or the fear in her eyes.

He squeezed her hand, redirecting her attention to him.

Her eyes filled with tears, which she desperately tried to keep at bay. Her lip wobbled and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, Sergio…"

"It's okay," he whispered as he held her to him, cradling her head against his shoulder. She gripped his t-shirt and burst into tears.

He held her without a word as she cried her heart out, caressing her hair softly. He did what she did every time he couldn't sleep because he'd dreamt of Andrés.

It was killing him seeing her like this – her who was always so strong, who responded with anger, tit for tat, who had frisked him when she'd mistaken him for a journalist, pulled her gun on him minutes after realising who he was, fighting and biting him and calling him names, beating the shit out of him even with her hands restrained above her head. He'd never seen her cry like that.

"Talk to me, Raquel," he said when her tears had quelled. "What happened?"

She was silent for a few seconds. "They had a sink full of cold water." He winced and held her tighter. "It's how I lost consciousness a couple times."

"Oh, Raquel…"

"Since that wasn't working they would beat me up. Then try again. They kept telling me that they had caught you," she continued. "that you had given me up, that it was no use protecting you, that if I didn't talk I would never see Paula again." She took a deep breath to steady her voice. "And Alberto was there, too."

Sergio could taste bile and his stomach sank. "He won't hurt you ever again," he promised. "Neither will they."

"In spite of everything you taught me, how not to believe a word they said, to forget everything I knew, to shut out the pain, it was so fucking hard not to believe them."

He kissed her head. "I know."

"I didn't say a word and I thought it would never fucking end, and yet several times they put a gun to my head and I thought that's it, that's where it ends, and I don't know which was worse." She trembled and he caressed her arm. "And I knew… they didn't leave me stewing for hours like you would expect them to. They didn't have time. Either they managed to break me in the few hours they had or…" She took a long, shaky breath. "No one knew where I was. They could do anything they fucking wanted. They could kill me. They could keep me forever."

He held her tighter. "It's okay. You're safe. We'll be home soon."

She nodded, exhaling with relief.

He didn't say anything for a while. She felt how tense his body was against her. He'd stopped caressing her arm. When she looked up she saw him staring at the horizon with a frown and his jaw clenched.

"Sergio," she said as she ran her fingertips across his cheek, bringing him back to her. "I know how you feel. If it had been you I would have burned the country to the ground. But we have to let it go."

He looked at her for a moment. "They hurt you. Badly," he whispered. "I don't think I can let that go."

"They did. But you have to let it go, Sergio. What are you going to do, pull a heist every time someone you care about gets hurt?" She had a small smile – he _would_ be capable of that. "I need you with me so don't lose yourself in those thoughts. We're lucky that all of us have made it. Let's go home and enjoy it."

"You're right," he admitted, sheepishly. But it wouldn't erase his anger, it wouldn't make her heal any faster, physically and mentally, and they both knew it. Only time would help. "I'm so sorry, Raquel."

They looked at each other, still cuddling. She was gently running her fingertips through his beard. The bright Mediterranean sun was shining down on them. The boat was rocking leisurely along the waves and a light breeze was blowing, against their bare arms and into the sails taking them home.

"I love you," she said.

"I'll never let anything happen to you again," he promised.

She nodded. "Me neither."

He leaned towards her and placed a gentle, tender kiss on her lips that they let linger.


	4. India, Vietnam, Palawan

**Chapter Four : India, Vietnam, Palawan**

* * *

In twenty-four hours they would be home.

Crossing Asia was a beautiful trip, without a doubt. They ate local food, saw wonderful landscapes that they had time to admire from trains, cars, buses and boats, listened to Van Morrison on an ancient mp3 player. He took care of her and rubbed cream on the bruises she couldn't reach. Her broken bones were healing nicely and her bruises had faded from purple to yellow.

It also was a long trip; it would be perfect if it weren't for the nervous anticipation of finally getting home. They didn't want to waste time: they took turns sleeping leaning against the other in train and bus stations and in the rides they hitched, they stopped in public bathrooms to wash up and change.

They'd only stayed at a hotel for the night once, in Gujarat, because her ribs were hurting despite all the painkillers and they were desperate for a bath. She was rushing him to the autobus station and they hadn't washed in over twenty-four hours. They were disgusting and sticky with fresh sweat covering old sweat and mud.

"Come on, we'll miss the bus."

Her jaw was clenched, her brow furrowed, her forehead shining with sweat. She had the same look of tension on her face as he had during all those years in hospital when he was younger.

Sergio stopped walking and shook his head. "We're taking the next one, Raquel."

"What are you talking about? The next one isn't until tomorrow. We can make it."

"You're in pain." He knew that in spite of him carrying most of their stuff in his backpack, in spite of the painkillers – which she took in a lower dose than she should to keep a clear head anyway – it hurt every time she breathed, every time they travelled on an uneven road (which in that part of the world was the norm). "We're going to a hotel."

To his surprise she didn't protest and followed him, which told him how much pain she was in. In fact, she didn't say much for the rest of the evening, but he knew it was not because she was mad at him for making them take a later bus.

The long, cathartic sigh she released when she lay down on the hotel bed said it all.

There was a second during which looking at her face he thought she'd let the pain win, and cry. He watched her pull herself back together, close her eyes and take a deep steadying breath. _I've had worse. This is nothing. _

She took the dose of painkillers she was actually supposed to take and he sat next to her on the bed, caressing her hair – she took his hand, kissed it with her eyes still closed, and put it back on her head – until she was deep in sleep.

And now, on a night train in Vietnam, sitting across from each other, her cuddled up in her hoodie and him sitting upright, neither could sleep. With the peaceful certainty that they would reach the port in the morning, be one boat ride away from Palawan, from home… They were reminiscing without a word, looking at each other in the moonlight with a smile on their faces. In love.

"Raquel," he whispered, low enough that he wouldn't awake the passengers sleeping right next to them. "I'm sorry I kept picking fights with you. Before the heist and during."

She grinned. So much had happened since. They had been on the road for ten days and he was bringing it up now. "It's fine, Sergio. It was stressful for all of us."

He shook his head. "Don't make excuses for me. I was an asshole to you. And after I thought they had… that you were…" He paused to blink back his tears. "It kept playing in my mind, on a loop, all those things I'd said to you, the last things I'd said to your face."

"Well… The last thing you said to me was the most beautiful declaration anyone had ever made me, so..." she answered softly. They both smiled. "Actually, remember when I said it would help me endure three hours? I was wrong. I held onto it for forty-eight."

His eyes watered instantly, realising what she was referring to. That she had been thinking of him while…

Raquel squeezed his hand to bring his attention back to her. "I was afraid too, that the last thing I'd said to you was that you had fucked up my life and I would never have the chance to tell you I didn't mean it."

She swallowed hard. He took her hand in his.

"I did upturn your life, to be fair. Now because of me you live on another continent as a fugitive."

She shook her head. "Alright, my life is drastically different from what it was before I met you but you didn't fuck up my life, Sergio. Leaving with you freed me. From a shit job where no one respected me, from a country that only saw me as the asshole who fucked up the case, from my son of a bitch of an ex-husband. Everything is better with you, too. A thousand times better."

He blinked a few times, striving to keep his composure.

"I'm glad," was all he could manage.

They grinned.

"Do you know why I did the heist with you?" she continued. "Because I think torture is wrong. Because I think the system is broken. Because I knew I was a valuable help with everything police-related."

"You were. I said I beat you at that game. It was not true. We couldn't have pulled it off without Lisboa."

She smiled. "They're your family, and they needed you. I'm with you. You didn't ask me to come; you didn't have to."

"No."

"That's not the only reason." She licked her lips and leaned closer to him. "Also because the Professor is _hot_. Attending his classes turned me on more than anything."

He pretended to be shocked, like he didn't know his girlfriend had a hot for teacher thing and was a bit of a nympho. "Raquel, that's embarrassing… we are in public."

"I had missed him, a bit."

"Well, I wouldn't think it unreasonable for him to re-appear from time to time when you want him to. I don't know, to ask you personal, intimate questions on the phone, or…"

She chuckled. "Very well."

"You said it was about vengeance," he continued after a minute of silence. "The truth is, I hadn't been thinking of doing anything to avenge Andrés. I had his plan in mind, but that was it, there was no point, I didn't want to jeopardize what I had with you. But then they caught Río, and we needed a plan, fast…" She caressed his thumb. "The first heist _was_ for my father. There wasn't supposed to be another. I'll admit I didn't handle it well, I wish I'd had more time to plan it..."

She shushed him gently. "It's okay. It's done."

"And I was scared for you. It's why part of me didn't want you there. I'm sorry for everything."

"It's okay. Just don't do it again."

They chuckled. "That won't be a problem. I'm not planning another heist. We're retiring."

"Good." She started fiddling with his fingers. "It was fun, though, for the most part. Exciting. It was nice finally meeting your family and being part of the team."

He nodded. "It was nice having you to share our victories with. And this _is_ a victory, Raquel, even without the gold. Because you're here with me and we're almost home at last."

She smiled and brought his hand to her lips. Sergio leaned over to cross the distance between them and kissed her tenderly, holding her face.

* * *

It was late afternoon when they walked into their house in Palawan. Raquel barely had time to set her backpack on the floor before Paula came barrelling towards them. She knelt down and opened her arms wide, her daughter running into her embrace. She drowned her in kisses and whispered loving nicknames into her hair, breathing her in.

Sergio looked at them, on the verge of tears seeing her so happy. Then Mariví, in a now rare moment of lucidity, appeared and told them welcome home and hugged them tight.

"Come on," she beckoned. "We made dinner."

They sat at the table, all four of them. With the help of her nurse Liyun, Mariví had made her famous soup, followed by a flan.

"It's delicious, Mamá," Raquel said with a smile before she looked down at her plate again, only Sergio noticing her glistening eyes. She had missed her mother's cooking, had probably thought she wouldn't get to experience it again… he knew how that felt.

Even living at the other end of the world, they hadn't lost the Spanish tradition of _sobremesa_, and they talked about their trip, officially a business trip across Asia to export his cider and not a heist back home in Europe – Raquel had even bought gifts and souvenirs from every country they had crossed – to Paula and Mariví who listened in awe, until their eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. They left the dishes for tomorrow, and Sergio and Raquel headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed while Mariví tucked Paula in.

Raquel could have cried with the joy of brushing her teeth next to Sergio, each above their sink. She _had _cried when she had joined him in Palawan and he had given her a tour of the house he had had built, including the bathroom with two sinks and the two spare bedrooms.

When he put on his librarian's pyjamas, as she called them, she chuckled. If brushing her teeth beside him didn't feel like home…

He stopped her with a hand on her elbow before she could cross the threshold to their bedroom, though.

"Raquel, after all we went through to get home, I can't just let you walk into our room…"

He had a spark in his eyes, so she didn't question him and waited for him to explain with an amused smile. But he didn't offer her any further explanations and instead, bent over to pick her up, slowly, mindful of her ribs. She laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his nape. He rubbed his cheek against hers and used his shoulder to push the door open, his lips finding hers. They felt that familiar, dearly missed stir in their lower stomachs, but were cut short when they discovered Paula in the middle of their bed with a giant shit-eating grin.

Sergio laughed, still carrying Raquel. "Well, technically, she _is _tucked in."

But Raquel didn't want to appear as amused as he did. "You put your grandmother up to this," she accused.

Paula's grin split into a giggle. "Yes."

"You just broke the first rule of crime, kid," Sergio teased her as he gently led Raquel's feet back to the floor. "Never reveal who your accomplices are."

"It's okay," Raquel said as she sat next to Paula, caressing her hair. This time she couldn't hide her tenderness towards her daughter. "I wasn't planning on her becoming a criminal mastermind when she grows up."

Sergio watched her watch her daughter with adoration. She had never been apart from her for that long.

His carnal reunion with her would just have to wait.

Paula was beginning to fall asleep, so they lay on each side of her, slipping under the sheets. They both released a long, cathartic sigh: finding their bed, their mattress, their sheets, their pillows, the smell of their detergent even, after all this time away… it felt like heaven. Sleep would take them in no time.

She hugged her daughter to her chest. Sergio wrapped his arm around them both and Raquel looked up at him with a blissed out grin and glistening eyes.

"Finally," she mouthed, and he nodded, his eyes stinging. He caressed her arm with a feather-light touch – the bruises had faded and so had the marks and the welts and she looked like herself again – until she fell asleep.


	5. Home

**Chapter Five : Home**

* * *

They returned to their life with an ease that didn't surprise them. The morning after, they were having breakfast together and making sure Paula arrived at school on time.

They went out on their shabby little boat, caught fish, cooked it and ate it. They took long walks along the beach hand in hand. They took naps in hammocks. They went shopping for groceries at the local market. They lay on the sand outside their bedroom at night and gazed at the stars. He played the piano for her. They practised their Tagalog – he learned from books and talked to her about grammar and semantics and phonology but her method of choice was speaking with the locals. He continued teaching her origami but she rarely had the patience for anything beyond a boat. She made him listen to her collection of records to fix his knowledge of pop music, which she had declared sorely lacking. They played cards and board games with Mariví and Liyun, and helped Paula with her homework, who was showing strong affinities for languages after Sergio had introduced her to English, Italian, Portuguese, and Russian.

They healed. They went to a physiotherapist who showed her exercises to regain full function of her broken fingers. She could now laugh without a sharp, piercing pain in her side.

They still had nightmares. He dreamt of her death – he heard the gunshots again, sometimes he was holding her dead body with two bullet holes in her forehead, sometimes not. Sometimes he saw her jumping out of the ambulance, the last time he'd seen her 'alive', heard the gunshots and saw himself holding the smoking gun. His nightmares woke him up without fail and it always took him a short moment to remember he was in Palawan and she was asleep next to him, that it had only been a dream, but it was also a memory and he was overcome with the urge to hold her to him tight, so he would do just that. When that woke her up she would hold him back and whisper words of reassurance to him, letting him rest his ear over her heart.

When she did have nightmares, he turned the lights on and held her until she came back to him and her breathing returned to normal. Then, she would often go to Paula's room to make sure she was there, sleeping soundly. When she came back to bed with an anxiolytic he was always waiting for her to curl up in his arms so he could lull her back to sleep.

Time passed and these occurrences were getting more and more rare.

The one thing that still frustrated her was their sex life.

Their reunion had been mind-blowing – they had spent hours taking their time, getting reacquainted with each other, expressing through caresses and kisses how grateful they were to be there, home, alive, making love.

For the first few weeks she had laid down and let him take the lead. Her broken ribs didn't allow for very acrobatic sex, and they sometimes needed to slow things down because it hurt to breathe. And there had been that one time when she had burst into tears after a particularly intense orgasm; it had been cathartic for her but it had freaked him out.

He'd been so gentle with her since, not wanting to hurt her… But now that she had healed, she needed something else...

For the seemingly thousandth time, he was on top of her entering her gently and she was trembling with desire. And for the seemingly thousandth time, he asked her if that was okay.

It had been fine, at first. Quite welcome in fact. But now...

"Fucking hell, Sergio," she sighed. "You're not going to break me."

He froze and she felt him bristle under her hands and knew she might have been a bit too tactless about it.

"I appreciate your considerations, darling," she continued, caressing his bearded cheek tenderly. "I do. But… I can't take this anymore. You gotta take what you need."

"Then come here," he whispered as he held her tight to deftly flip them with his erection still nestled inside her. She laughed and sat up, biting her lip with delight. She watched him take her in, bathed in the dim glow of the candles on the nightstand. Poor guy was speechless, slowly running his hand over her torso. She felt like a goddess.

She basked in the feeling for a moment, then slowly lifted her hips with her hands planted firmly on his chest, only for the pleasure of taking him inside her again. She hummed. "I have missed this. You have no idea."

"Fuck, me too."

She did it a few more times, relishing the little sigh of relief he emitted every time he was fully sheathed inside her, letting the anticipation build. Then, she started rocking her hips and the force of their desire took them both aback, leaving them breathless.

"I'm not gonna last long."

"Me either."

He held her hips, increasing the force of her thrusts, following that rhythm that they both knew so well. His thumb caressed her in insistent circles until she was coming above him and he watched her orgasm shatter her and finally let go.

She collapsed against his chest with a breathless chuckle, and he held her until she fell asleep.

* * *

They were taking their ritual evening walk along the beach. At that time of year they were just in time for sunset, and so they walked hand in hand without a word, enjoying the light breeze against their skin, the sound of the waves crashing to lick at the sand, and the bright colours exploding across the sky and reflecting in the ocean. When they reached their turnaround point, they embraced for a moment as they took in the scenery. By that time they had lost count of how many sunsets they had enjoyed together, but they knew they wouldn't tire of it - which was just as well, because they knew there were many, many more down the road.

Before they could head back home, Sergio whispered in her ear, "There's something I want to tell you."

She turned to him, but he let go of her and knelt, just before the waves. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand to hide her grin. Sergio took her other hand in his. He looked dead serious, a little terrified even, but she understood. She bit back her smile and let him speak.

He took a second to take her in, dressed in an ankle-length summer dress, bathed in the warm glow of the sunset, her long golden hair flowing in the breeze. He wanted to etch that memory in his brain forever, to always have it behind his eyelids, to anchor himself to it whenever he felt overwhelmed.

She was stunning. It gave him courage.

"Raquel," he spoke up. "I didn't think I could ever be this lucky, having you with me. I didn't think I could ever fall in love that way. And having you loving me back… When I gave you the postcards, I knew there was a risk that you would turn me in. Every day for a year I went to that bar to wait for you, but I also waited to be arrested. That you chose me, frankly I still can't quite believe it," he said with a short laugh. "Even after everything we went through."

Moved to tears, Raquel knelt in front of him, their knees touching. He was shedding his shyness of just a minute ago, and all that was left was his heart, wide open for her.

"The Professor was a moron who thought only the heists, only getting the perfect plan right, mattered. But to me, Sergio, you're the only thing that matters. You and our family. I've never been happier. I've never felt more alive. I wasn't living before I met you. Raquel, you're the love of my life." He cupped her face in his hands, looked into her eyes. "I love you."

Her tears spilled over before she could even think about holding them back. She had never doubted it, not for one second, but finally hearing _the_ words, said to her face, not in a disguise like _I fell in love with you_, or _be careful,_ or _let's leave_…

He wiped her tears with his thumbs, amazed that a badass like her always cried so easily and so spontaneously when he talked to her about love… on the rare occasions that he had, anyway. He made a mental note to make it a more frequent occurrence. She deserved that much. God – she deserved to be reminded every day how much he loved her.

"Raquel, I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife. I want Paula to be my daughter and Mariví my mother." She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop her tears from shedding any further. His face split into a wide smile. "What do you say?"

Raquel opened her eyes and grinned. "Yes."

He chuckled with joy and fumbled in his back pocket for the velvet pouch containing the silver diamond ring, which he slipped on her finger. She kissed him passionately and he responded in kind, but after a moment she had to gently pull away from him. "I had something to tell you, too," she confessed against his lips with a giggle.

He laughed, amused that she was going to propose to him as well. He wasn't surprised, despite the huge hint she had dropped in the RV that if they were to get married, she expected a proper proposal from _him_. "Well, it's traditionally the man who proposes, but it _is_ the twenty-first century after all, I don't mind."

She shook her head, still smiling, and took his hand to press his palm against her stomach, just below her navel. He was confused for a second. And then…

"I'm pregnant, Sergio."

He blinked. Then it was his turn to have his eyes full of tears. He laughed, said "You're pregnant", and held her face as he kissed her.

Soon enough, they flopped into the waves as they kissed and laughed, delirious with love and happiness.

* * *

_So this was the final chapter! The epilogue will be published in a few days. Thank you for reading, and don't hesitate to let me know what you think :)_


	6. Epilogue: Thailand

**Epilogue : Thailand**

* * *

"Face it, Raquel, we are lost."

"We are not lost," she replied, frowning above the map she had spread over the hood of their RV. "We are taking a detour and enjoying the view."

They were parked on the side of a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere. They had exited the city of Khon Kaen three hours ago and for the past ten minutes had been debating where they had made a wrong turn to end up… here. Wherever in Thailand that was. If they were still in Thailand, Sergio thought with a shudder.

"Then can you point at our location?"

"Of course I can, darling. Here," Raquel said confidently.

"You didn't even look at the map!"

She rolled her eyes, folded the map as best as she could – the glint of her wedding ring in the sun catching his eye – and turned to him. "Who cares where we are?" She asked, gesturing at the wide expanse of bright green rice fields around them. "It's gorgeous. Let's keep going. We'll find a road sign eventually."

Sergio was still pouting a little, unconvinced. Smitten, Raquel wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him, the baby bump making it a bit awkward.

"We're retired, Professor," she said with an adoring smile, caressing his beard. He rested his hands on the small of her back. "We don't have to always plan everything to a T."

He smiled. "You're right. I love that about you."

"I know. So, are we doing this?"

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Come on, husband," she said as she grabbed his hand and led him back to the RV. "Let's hit the road."

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_


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